


Feathery Wings

by Liliriu



Category: Neon Genesis Evangelion
Genre: Drama, Feelings, Happy Ending, Introspection, M/M, POV Ikari Shinji, POV Nagisa Kaworu, Personal Growth, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:47:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24240793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liliriu/pseuds/Liliriu
Summary: What if Shinji had refused to kill Kaworu?Warning: mostly introspection and feelings.
Relationships: Ikari Shinji/Nagisa Kaworu
Comments: 6
Kudos: 99





	Feathery Wings

> _I'm trying to earn a set of feathery wings  
>  I wish I could protect you here  
>  Oh, please don't cry  
>  Now smile as you're standing  
>  At the edge of your life  
>  Your troubles are over  
>  Mine are just beginning  
>  I'm trying to earn a set of feathery wings  
>  To take me away from here  
>  It’s me you leave behind_
> 
> _Feathery Wings, Voltaire_

“No. I am not going to kill you,” said Shinji. “If you want to die, go ahead and do it yourself,” he went on. “If you want to destroy humanity, then I am not going to stop you. I know that this is a bad thing for me to do, but killing the one I love would be even worse. This is my decision.”

If Shinji had had the vocabulary to express this, he would had explained Kaworu that he was deluded in thinking that he lacked choice. While it is a fact that every single one of our actions is predestined, this does not take away even a tiny piece of our freedom, but the exact opposite is true: precisely this fact is the necessary condition for us to be free, since our courses of action are not defined by anything _outside us_ , but only by our own desires; we are compelled to act according to them, yet if we _could_ do otherwise, that would mean to actually lack freedom.

That is the way it is. Therefore, Kaworu retreated.

***

“Good morning, Shinji,” said Kaworu. He was smiling a -he hoped- endearing little smile, half leaning on Shinji’s desk, “I was thinking maybe…”

“I am not interested. Please go away,” interrupted him Shinji.

It had already been like this for a couple of weeks now, since the war had ended with Kaworu’s retreat: he would come to school every morning, exhausted from work, try to approach Shinji, and Shinji would reject him. Always calmly and politely, yet always firmly, and more and more directly as the days would pass.

Life had started to normalize itself, yet very slowly. Some refugees had already returned to the city, but it still remained depressively desolate. Besides that, “normal” was not a state which Kaworu had ever been meant to achieve. He had had a purpose, a clear one: fall in love with a human, avoid destroying humanity by allowing said human to destroy him instead. There was no purpose now.

It is not that Kaworu was unaware to the confusion about the whole “meaning of life question”; he knew that life was such a thing which was inherently good; which possessed value solely by existing. Or at least, that this is how it should had been. So why he could not _feel_ it? As much as he tried to see life as rather be lived than not lived, his brain would not cooperate; no happiness or reward for him, just devastating images of Shinji’s unreachable blushing face... As much as he tried to see it differently, this was the only narrative in which he could actually believe: he was not needed anymore, there were no plans for him, he had failed at serving his purpose, and therefore was not supposed to be.

But he kept trying to survive, as humans usually do, except for when they find themselves in some extreme circumstances. SEELE was nowhere to be found, but NERV would not throw away a child that easily, so they had given him an apartment, much smaller than the former, and an allowance which was barely enough to not starve. The city was lacking working hands, and he worked at whatever job he could find. Then he would go to school, body and mind crushed, to see his love, who would reject him. Understandably, really; as Shinji had explained him once -and _only_ once- Kaworu had tried to turn him into a murderer, taking the whole humankind as a hostage. If _that_ was not a reason to turn someone down…

He was certainly not supposed to be.

***

Shinji was lying on Rei’s bed, head leaning on her lap, hair caressed by gentle fingers, talking. Rei, who had scared him, who he had not even been sure whether to considered human, only a couple of weeks ago. All that seemed so insignificant now, as she was his only friend. He and Misato could barely face each other now; they had both, too recently, lost their love. So he would pass by Rei’s place almost every day, bringing some take-away (since Rei’s diet was even worse than Misato’s. How was she still alive. Ha-ha), and they would eat, and then they would not do much; lie in bed, and listen to music, or talk.

He had brought Rei a gift: a painted sunset, red sun fading behind blue sea; and said that it reminded him of her. It was true, but still an excuse; he had not wanted the gesture to be seen as one of pity, yet it was, as he found her apartment unbearable to live in. Now, it hanged on one of the unkempt walls, creating an odd contrast. The truth was, that he should had done all this earlier, but was too busy doing what, retrospectively, seemed like being happy and having friends. Too busy joking with Misato, too busy hypocritically complaining about Asuka’s circus show, only to then go masturbate over her imagined skin.

For a brief time, Shinji had been actually happy, and he told so to Rei. For a brief time, he had known the bliss, not retrospective or nostalgic but real time, of being courted by a beautiful man. A beautiful man who desired, not Asuka or Misato, but _him_ , Shinji. He had experienced the promise of love, as himself, not in exchange for anything but maybe access to his body, which he would had gladly granted to this man. He thought, for the millionth time, about the serene face, crimson eyes and white skin, so soft looking inside hot water, gleaming, faintly covered by silver hair…

“He was so beautiful, Rei… You just don’t understand.”

“I do understand. I saw him.”

Rei never offered him witty or clever insights, that was not the way in which she operated. What she did do, was stating the obvious. And that, came to understand Shinji, was an underappreciated quality, for the obvious was just too easy to forget. He knew _some people_ who were skilled with words, who could appear wise and profound solely by opening their mouths. But did their words have any content? More often than not, they were empty clichés. Miserable lies.

But of course it was all a lie; why would a beautiful person want Shinji, anyway, what was desirable about him? Maybe the thought had occurred to him back then, but if so, it had been quickly pushed away, obscured by _happiness_. Now, it was crystal clear: there was nothing desirable about Shinji, nothing attractive. He was just a mediocre, uninteresting child. And why would he not be? He had never felt the need to attract, had always been too busy surviving. While he had desperately wanted love, he had only considered the unconditional sort. The alternative, had simply not crossed his mind.

“I do not think so,” said Rei, “that you are mediocre or uninteresting.”

Shinji paused for a moment; he had not expected this reaction. “Thank you, Rei…” he said finally, “but he is gone now…”

“He is not gone.”

“But he _is_ …”

Rei remained silent. She had spoken enough words for one day.

***

The factory worked day and night, yet it was always hot and suffocating. Kaworu would not had minded the hard work, if he had had anything, _anyone_ , expecting him when it was over. He allowed himself to fantasize: arriving home in the morning, after the long night shift. Washing his teeth, quickly removing his clothes, and then straight to bed. Everything tidy, the sheets so fresh, and Shinji’s little body still curled up between them. All the details were so clear, in the fantasy… Kaworu lying pressed to him, hugging the slim waist, running his hand over the stomach, kissing the neck, inhaling the clean smell. It was agony.

***

Already in the empty apartment, every piece of his mind pushing the body to sleep. He had a couple of hours, if he wanted to be at school in time, to see Shinji and be fucking rejected again… He looked at his himself in the body mirror, before entering to bed. A truly graceful figure, a sexy one. Slender and fair skinned, fine face and hair. How could Shinji, or someone, not want this body? Well, there _was_ the “having been at war with humanity” little thing…

Kaworu climbed onto the bed and kept reflecting, as he tried to find a more comfortable position for his exhausted body. Shinji, Shinji, Shinji… Why was he so obsessed with the boy, to the point of arranging his whole life around barely getting to see him? Why give up his precious hours of sleep for him? Well, the answer was obvious, wasn’t it? He did not know Shinji. Their whole “falling in love” stage had lasted… a week, at most? In retrospective, his mind had been heavily compartmentalized during this time (probably during his whole life, but especially during this time); part of him was aware of his duty, had known all along that it would not last, that it would not even start. While the other part, it had been as happy as Kaworu did not know that it was possible to be, flying high above reality… He had immersed himself in the infatuation, imagining the future as what it would had probably been in more normal circumstances… Charming the boy completely, earning his affection and loyalty, becoming inseparable, touching him whenever he wanted, fucking him… Great, he was crying now.

But no point to crying for a delusion, and that was all what it was. So yes, the answer was obvious: He did not obsess over Shinji _because of Shinji_ , he obsessed because he had nothing else going on in his life; it should had been over while loving Shinji, and now that it unnaturally continued, he did not know what to do, but unnaturally fixate himself on a love whose time was over. And _maybe_ that could had worked if Shinji had loved him back.

But of course -after all, that was precisely the heart of the matter- he did not.

***

“Now it is my turn to be held…” said Kaworu, drawing closer.

“ _Now it is my turn to be held?_ ” What did those words even mean, who the hell talked like this? Certainly not Kaworu.

Shinji opened his eyes and stared at the quiet, empty space of the room. Obviously, it was not Kaworu, only an image created by Shinji’s brain as it drifted into sleep. But it had been so vivid a moment ago, that he felt as if it _actually_ was Kaworu. Still, what a strange choice of words... Well, maybe not for a falling-asleep mind, maybe the source of the strangeness was the combination with the vividness of the image.

Yet there was something vivid about the words, as well. They lacked inhibition, so in a sense, they were more authentic than a lot of the words that sane people would say in real life. Their meaning was very clear, to be honest: those were words of blame; “You, Shinji,” they claimed, “had taken and had not given back.” Was it true? What had he taken outside of false promises and pain?

***

Once he had stopped going to school, Kaworu had much more free time, and not much to fill it with. This evening his was spending at home and as, unfortunately, humans sometimes do, he was reflecting on the possibility of committing suicide. Of course, it was _only one_ of the possibilities, and a very _final_ one, no point on rushing over instead of properly comparing it to the alternatives. Besides that, his life had been Shinji’s gift, which he did not wish to throw away. But there he was again, obsessing over Shinji. Never mind Shinji, then. His life had been _a_ gift, undeserved, and despite that given to him. He preferred to keep it, at least for now.

And _still_ , if he wanted to consider all the possibilities, then persevering at bringing Shinji back _was_ one. It would not be as quickly as he would had liked, and would require strategy, but it was not impossible. Neither was it healthy, though; the other boy had clearly stated that he did not want Kaworu, and he knew that in a human being, his current behavior was getting dangerously close to one which would be considered crazy. Not that _health_ had ever been a relevant concept for him, but if he intended to live as a human, then he would probably have to make some adjustments.

He knew that humans had a certain _method_ to sooth the pain of losing a beloved. A desperate, yet efficient method, which for Kaworu required as much as a change of paradigm; it was an idea that he would had found inconceivable before everything went wrong. But, adjustments. The method was to fill the hole left in the heart with another love. Or, failing that, with sex.

That seemed to be the best plan, for now: Kaworu would find himself a boyfriend.

***

At home, a different evening, yet much nicer now, much warmer. Cuddling on the old sofa with another body, slowly caressing a smooth white leg. While it was hard for Kaworu to find individuals whom he could possibly want as lovers, the other way around could not had been easier; he charmed like he breathed, and choosing the right words required for him as much effort as maintaining his angelical looks.

The prey… the _boy_ that he chose was a couple of years older than himself, yet appeared less. Like Shinji, he was slender and possessed a sweet face, maybe sweeter even, if Kaworu wished to be objective. And this delicious naivety. Only it was not _this_ naivety, but a whole different kind; while Shinji’s stemmed from purity, this boy’s was more like a form of _stupidity_ , which would often, annoyingly, reflect itself in the saccharine face. But his skin was creamy white, and he did not judge…

***

Kaworu had not come to school one morning, nor in the morning after, nor in the one after that... Shinji had made a beginners’ mistake: to believe that their daily ritual had caused him more pain than relief. Rei had been right: Kaworu had been there, and now he was gone. He had given up, and there was no one to blame, except for Shinji’s own idiocy. He could not face her now, tell her that after all his whining, she had been right.

Anyway, why not to spend some time with Misato, who had taken him into her house, where was his sense of gratitude these days and… _Seriously?!_ What an insufferable person he was, feeling so good about finally giving Rei the friendship she deserved, but what kind of friendship was that? All he ever did was talk about his problems; and now that it was less convenient, known as he was for his tendency to run away, he was trying to justify his desire to run away back to his almost-mommy’s arms. _Disgusting_. Rei… Misato… Shinji just kept choosing whoever was _easier_ each time, all the meanwhile neglecting the one most in need of a friend.

After school, Shinji headed to the institution in which now lived Asuka.

***

The night in which Kaworu lost his virginity, he cried with bitter tears. A few moments of intense pleasure, and then just alienation. Perhaps with Shinji it would have been different…? But he _was trying_ to be human, and he was aware to the emptiness in humans’ claim regarding the attachment between love and sex. So that was how it was like to be one of them. Not that he had expected much, but why did he have to feel so… tainted? Was it the loss of virtue? Perhaps. And perhaps, something different: the loss of essence, of the _self_. Was there such a thing in the first place, a self, that one could lose? Kaworu did not know that, but, had he asked Rei, about _this topic,_ she could have probably offered some insight.

***

Asuka seemed like a whole different person, and Shinji saw it as a loss. She did not explicitly give him the “I’m not angry, I’m just disappointed,” yet it was written all over her face. Although, she did not take Shinji’s apology as a sign of weakness, but recognized it as the sincere gesture it was, and accepted it. And that was good.

Now, about apologies, _he_ had never given him his, but neither had Shinji given him the chance. And if he did, then what? Missing the attention once it was no longer given, was not the same as forgiving. Perhaps it was time to make a decision, again.

***

And when he approached Misato, she greeted him with open arms, as she always would. Shinji saw it needless to ask for her opinion on whether love was worth persisting for. She did, though, have some rather… _creative_ ideas.

“Usually, when you lose something, what do you do?”

“I don’t know, retrace my steps? Visit the last spots where I saw it?”

“Exactly!”

“Misato, Kaworu is not… a set of keys…”

“Doesn’t matter, same concept.”

“You work at NERV. You could just give me his new address.”

“Ah… But then it would not be as much fun, would it?”

Bizarre as Misato’s concept of “fun” was, seeing a glimpse of the old her was, also, good.

***

The number of possible spots was quite limited, as Kaworu’s and Shinji’s time together had been brief, and the whole NERV compound was now off limits for both. It took him at least a week of following the same path, but one evening, Shinji did find him.

Kaworu was not humming this time, and seemed strangely akin to the wreckage around. Shinji got closer to the rock on which he sat. Kaworu let out a sigh, and smiled. “Finally,” he said. “I was getting tired of waiting.”

Shinji offered him a hand. “Let’s go for a walk.”

They did, for the whole night. They walked among the ruins of the city, and among the places which had been spared. Their conversation dealt with their past lives, and with a possible future one. They told each other anecdotes, and insecurities, and bizarre dreams. They teased each other and raced, until Shinji collapsed, gasping and holding a painful side, and with much care, Kaworu bent down, and kissed his lips.

“I am started to get tired,” he said (the sun was rising already), “walk me home?”

***

As Kaworu had dreamed so many times, that morning he fell asleep in the arms of his love. Shinji stayed awake for a long time, gazing. It was surreal, almost unfair: all the grace of the heavens condensed into the body of one stunning boy, laying at bed with _him_.

That was the point in which Shinji would usually start to doubt himself, but that morning, there was no place in his mind for dark thoughts, since it was overloaded with joy.


End file.
